THE PARISH TRILOGY - Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood, The Seaboard Parish & The Vicar's Daughter. George MacDonald
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Название: THE PARISH TRILOGY - Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood, The Seaboard Parish & The Vicar's Daughter
Автор: George MacDonald
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788075837813
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"Still, if it was anything on which a wrong conjecture might be built"—I wanted to soften it to her—"it is better that one should not be told it. Thank you for your kind intention, though. And now, Jane," I said, "will you do me a favour?"
"That I will, sir, if I can."
"Sing that Christmas carol I heard you sing last night to your mother."
"I didn't know any one was listening, sir."
"I know you did not. I came to the door with your father, and we stood and listened."
She looked very frightened. But I would not have asked her had I not known that she could sing like a bird.
"I am afraid I shall make a fool of myself," she said.
"We should all be willing to run that risk for the sake of others," I answered.
"I will try then, sir."
So she sang, and her clear voice soon silenced the speech all round.
"Babe Jesus lay on Mary's lap;
The sun shone in His hair:
And so it was she saw, mayhap,
The crown already there.
"For she sang: 'Sleep on, my little King!
Bad Herod dares not come;
Before Thee, sleeping, holy thing,
Wild winds would soon be dumb.
"'I kiss Thy hands, I kiss Thy feet,
My King, so long desired;
Thy hands shall never be soil'd, my sweet,
Thy feet shall never be tired.
"'For Thou art the King of men, my son;
Thy crown I see it plain;
And men shall worship Thee, every one,
And cry, Glory! Amen."
"Babe Jesus open'd His eyes so wide!
At Mary look'd her Lord.
And Mary stinted her song and sigh'd.
Babe Jesus said never a word."
When Jane had done singing, I asked her where she had learned the carol; and she answered,—
"My mistress gave it me. There was a picture to it of the Baby on his mother's knee."
"I never saw it," I said. "Where did you get the tune?"
"I thought it would go with a tune I knew; and I tried it, and it did. But I was not fit to sing to you, sir."
"You must have quite a gift of song, Jane!" I said.
"My father and mother can both sing."
Mr Brownrigg was seated on the other side of me, and had apparently listened with some interest. His face was ten degrees less stupid than it usually was. I fancied I saw even a glimmer of some satisfaction in it. I turned to Old Rogers.
"Sing us a song, Old Rogers," I said.
"I'm no canary at that, sir; and besides, my singing days be over. I advise you to ask Dr. Duncan there. He CAN sing."
I rose and said to the assembly:
"My friends, if I did not think God was pleased to see us enjoying ourselves, I should have no heart for it myself. I am going to ask our dear friend Dr. Duncan to give us a song.—If you please, Dr. Duncan."
"I am very nearly too old," said the doctor; "but I will try."
His voice was certainly a little feeble; but the song was not much the worse for it. And a more suitable one for all the company he could hardly have pitched upon.
"There is a plough that has no share,
But a coulter that parteth keen and fair.
But the furrows they rise
To a terrible size,
Or ever the plough hath touch'd them there.
'Gainst horses and plough in wrath they shake:
The horses are fierce; but the plough will break.
"And the seed that is dropt in those furrows of fear,
Will lift to the sun neither blade nor ear.
Down it drops plumb,
Where no spring times come;
And here there needeth no harrowing gear:
Wheat nor poppy nor any leaf
Will cover this naked ground of grief.
"But a harvest-day will come at last
When the watery winter all is past;
The waves so gray
Will be shorn away
By the angels' sickles keen and fast;
And the buried harvest of the sea
Stored in the barns of eternity."
Genuine applause followed the good doctor's song. I turned to Miss Boulderstone, from whom I had borrowed a piano, and asked her to play a country dance for us. But first I said—not getting up on a chair this time:—
"Some people think it is not proper for a clergyman to dance. I mean to assert my freedom from any such law. If our Lord chose to represent, in His parable of the Prodigal Son, the joy in Heaven over a repentant sinner by the figure of 'music and dancing,' I will hearken to Him rather than to men, be they as good as they may."
For I had long thought that the way to make indifferent things bad, was for good people not to do them.
And so saying, I stepped up to Jane Rogers, and asked her to dance with me. She blushed so dreadfully that, for a moment, I was almost sorry I had asked her. But she put her hand in mine at once; and if she was a little clumsy, she yet danced very naturally, and I had the satisfaction of feeling that I had an honest girl near me, who I knew was friendly to me in her heart.
But to see the faces of the people! While I had been talking, Old Rogers had been drinking in every word. To him it was milk and strong meat in one. But now his face shone with a father's gratification besides. And Richard's face was glowing too. Even old Brownrigg looked with a curious interest upon us, I thought.
Meantime Dr Duncan was dancing with one of his own patients, old Mrs Trotter, to whose wants he ministered far more from his table than his surgery. I have known that man, hearing of a case of want from his servant, send the fowl he was about СКАЧАТЬ